Supernatural: Pilot
by Seabass4supernatural
Summary: Basically, the first episode of Supernatural turned book form. this is my first fic, so I haven't really gotten the whole summary thing down yet... please review,I'd like to know what you guys think...
1. The Beginning

I don't own anything from Supernatural, including Sam, Dean, John, Mary, Bobby, or any of the other Supernatural characters, no matter how much I wish I did…

**Prologue**

**_Lawrence_**_,** Kansas**_

**_22 years ago…_**

Cricket chirps filled the nighttime November air as they did every other night in Lawrence, Kansas. An owl's hoot from a large leafless tree that stood outside one of several identical suburban homes signaled its waking. Nothing about the oh-so-normal nighttime activities of the wildlife could've suggested the turn of events that would take place in that house with the dead tree standing tall over its yellowing lawn.

Inside that particularly unremarkable home, a pretty, wavy blonde-haired woman in her late-twenties, wearing a white nightgown, Mary Winchester, carried her small four-year-old son, Dean, into his baby brother's nursery.

"Come on, let's say goodnight to your brother," Mary said softly to Dean, before turning on the lights to reveal her son, Sam, who was lying in his crib eyeing her curiously with his big brown eyes.

Mary smiled warmly at the infant and set Dean down in front of the crib.

The four-year-old leaned over the side of his brother's crib and kissed Sam softly on the forehead. "Night, Sam," he said.

Mary smiled fondly at the scene, and followed her son's example. "Goodnight, love," she said in a warm, motherly tone, brushing the infant's hair back and kissing him on the forehead.

"Hey, Dean," a man called. The man, John Winchester, was dressed in a USMC T-shirt and black pajama pants.

Dean wheeled around at the sound of his father's voice. "Daddy!" he exclaimed happily, rushing into the man's strong arms.

"Hey, buddy," John replied, scooping up the excited boy. "So, what do you think? You think Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet,"

Dean shook his head. "No, Daddy," he said, laughing.

"John chucked at his son."No," he agreed.

"You got him?" Mary asked John as she passed him on the way out of the crowded nursery.

"I got him," John replied, hugging Dean closer to him. "Sweet dreams, Sam," he said, before leaving the nursery and turning off the light on his way out.

Sam, gurgling, lifted his legs and extended his chubby arms up in a ninety degree angle in an attempt to reach his toes. Then, suddenly, strange things began to happen around the room. As Sam watched in fascination, the baseball-themed mobile above his crib began to spin on its own. That wasn't all though; the transportation-themed clock hanging on the wall stopped ticking and the moon-shaped nightlight in the corner of the room flickered.

In the master-bedroom of the Winchester house, the lights flickered on a baby monitor, sitting on Mary's nightstand, next to a photo of her and John from a few years before, and strange sounds came through the monitor. The strange sounds woke Mary, who then turned on the lamp sitting on her nightstand.

"John?" she asked sleepily, but no one was there.

Realizing she was alone, Mary got up and walked out of the bedroom to go check on Sam. In the hall, Mary stopped outside the nursery, upon seeing John's dark silhouette standing over Sam's crib.

"John? Is he hungry?" Mary asked quietly.

The silhouette turned its head slowly, bringing his index finger up to his lips. "Shhh,"

"Alright," Mary said, satisfied that the dark silhouette of her husband had things under control.

Groggily, she turned away from the nursery, and began to head back to bed, until she saw the light fixture by the stairs flicker rapidly.

Mary frowned, walked over to the light fixture and tapped it until the flickering light steadied. "Hmm," she said curiously, before noticing a ghostly blue light coming from downstairs. Cautiously, she made her way down the stairs to investigate the odd blue light.

At the bottom of the steps, in the living room, Mary noticed an old war movie playing on the TV. Her eyes found their way to a man sleeping in a recliner, remote hanging in the loose grip of his hand which was draped over the arm of the chair. It was John, which meant the person upstairs in Sammy's nursery was…

Mary wheeled around and bounded up the stairs. "Sammy! Sammy!" she called out frantically, running down the upstairs hall. She stopped suddenly upon entering the nursery, fear etched into her features.

Downstairs, John was awoken by the sound of Mary's piercing scream. "Mary?" he called out worriedly, scrambling out of his chair when he received no response. "Mary?" he called out again, sprinting up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

John burst frantically through the closed door of the nursery. "Mary," he called out.

Receiving no answer, the worried man glanced around the quiet room. With the exception of his infant son, the room appeared to be empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, John pushed down the side of Sam's crib.

"Hey, Sammy. You okay?" he asked, examining the boy for any wounds. He found none, but before he could breathe another sigh of relief, he noticed something dark drip next to Sam. John wiped the droplet with his finger and studied it. It was scarlet color. Two more drops landed on the back of John's hand. To John, the scarlet liquid looked almost like… like blood! Slowly, John looked up, and what he saw made his blood run cold. Mary was sprawled across the ceiling, the stomach of her nightgown red with blood. She was staring down at John, her eyes wide with fear, struggling to breathe and unable to say a word.

In shock, John collapsed onto the floor, staring, dumbstruck, at his dying wife. "No! Mary!" he exclaimed, grief drenching his words.

Out of nowhere, Mary burst into flames. Fire spread rapidly over the ceiling, burning her alive! John stared up at her, frozen, unable to move an inch and probably would've remained there until the flames overtook him if Sam hadn't started wailing loud. The baby's cries reminding him that he had his infant son to take care of, John got up, scooped Sam out of his crib and rushed into the hallway.

In the hallway John nearly ran into Dean who had been awoken by the noise and had come to investigate. "Daddy!" Dean cried, looking confused.

Almost instinctively, John shoved Sam at Dean and said in a commanding voice, "Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, go!"

Understanding the severity of the situation, Dean turned from his father and ran down the stairs. John, knowing his sons were safe, rusted back into the nursery.

"Mary!" he cried, but it was no use. The entire room was in flames, in fact, Mary's burning corpse, itself, could barely be seen at all. "No!"

Meanwhile, Dean ran outside, holding Sam tightly. "It's okay, Sammy," he said comfortingly, before turning to look up at his brother's nursery window, which was lit with golden flames. In the nick of time, John ran out the front door, scooped up Dean and Sam, and carried them away. "I gotcha," he said, before flames exploded out of the nursery windows.

Later that night, the firefighters were working frantically to put out the fire, spraying water from a rapidly spewing fire hose, straight into the nursery window. There was a crowd of curious, obnoxious neighbors being waved back by a police officer. "Stay back. You have to stay back," the police-officer ordered.

Across the street from the house, John and Dean were sitting on the hood of John's '67 Chevy Impala. John was holding Sam, looking up mournfully at the remnants of his former home, his life changed forever…

**This is my first fanfic, please review...**


	2. Dean

**I do not own Supernatural, I never have, and I never will...unfortunately. If I did, Bobby Singer would not be dead...**

**Chapter 1**

**_Stanford University_**

**_Palo Alto, California  
>Present Day, October 31, 2005<br>Sam Winchester's Apartment_**

"Sam!" a young blonde woman called as she walked into the living room of her boyfriend's apartment. The woman, Jessica Moore, was wearing a sexy-nurse costume, which included a tight, white shirt, low-cut around the breast area, with a short skirt, and a cute little nurse's hat.

Jessica was getting impatient. "Get a move on, would you?" she called again while straightening her hat. "We were supposed to be there like fifteen minutes ago. Sam! Are you coming or what?"

An extremely tall man in his early twenties with straight brown hair and brown eyes, Sam, poked his head into the living room. "Do I have to?" Sam whined.

"Yes!" Jess exclaimed in mock-exasperation. "It'll be fun,"

Sam walked into the living room, wearing a pair of jeans, a collared, button-down plaid shirt, and blue denim jacket.

"And where's your costume?" Jess asked, rolling her eyes.

Sam laughed. "You know how I feel about Halloween." he replied simply.

**THE PARTY**

The Halloween party took place in a bar somewhere on campus. The bar was decorated for Halloween, cobwebs spread out everywhere, and a creepy looking gargoyle that definitely stood out. Some drunken college kids dressed in various costumes danced around to Classic's "_What Cha Gonna Do_". Each one of these kids made complete fools of themselves in the process, but they didn't care; it was a Halloween-college-party, no one was gonna remember this in the morning, anyway. Others just sat at barstools, choking down shot after shot, trying to see who could get drunk the fastest.

At a table located away from most of the chaos, was where Sam and Jess sat, talking to each other, laughing, and having an all-around good time.

A friend of theirs, Luis, walked over to their table just as Jess raised her glass. "So here's to Sam and his awesome LSAT victory," she said proudly.

"All right, all right, it's not a big deal," Sam said modestly as his glass clinked with both Luis's and Jess's.

"He acts all humble, but he scored a one seventy-four," Jess teased.

Luis and Sam both downed their shots. "Is that good?" Luis asked curiously.

Jess chuckled. "Scary good," she said seriously, before downing her shot.

"So there you go. You are a first-round draft pick. You can go to any law school you want," Luis said, before sitting in the empty chair next to Sam.

"Actually, I got an interview here. Monday. If it goes okay I think I got a shot at a full ride next year," Sam explained.

"Hey, it's gonna go great," Jess said confidently.

"It _better_," Sam replied seriously.

"How does it feel to be the golden boy of your family?" Luis asked Sam.

"Ah, they don't know," Sam replied, looking down, sounding as if the idea was completely ridiculous to him.

"Oh, no, I would be gloating!" Luis began in a lively voice. "Why not?"

"Because, we're not exactly the _Bradys_," Sam joked.

"And I'm not exactly the _Huxtables_," Luis quipped, getting up from the table. "More shots?" he asked.

"No. No." Sam and Jess both said.

Luis shrugged and stumbled toward the bar, leaving the couple alone.

Jess turned her attention back to Sam. "No, seriously. I'm proud of you. And you're gonna knock 'em dead on Monday, and you're gonna get that full ride," she said supportively.

"What would I do without you?" Sam asked her, smiling.

"Crash and burn," she said simply, smiling, before pulling Sam in for a kiss.

**Apartment**

Later that night, Sam was woken up by what sounded to him, like a window opening. Now fully awake, he got up quietly, and left the bedroom to investigate what made the noise. Upon walking into the living room, Sam's worst fears were confirmed when he noticed the open window. In the darkness, Sam saw a man walk past the string of beads at the far end of the hall. Deciding to surprise the intruder, Sam moved to a different part of the apartment and waited. He seized his chance when the intruder entered the room. In a very quick motion, Sam lunged forward and grabbed the intruder at the shoulder. The intruder knocked Sam's arm away and aimed a strike at Sam, who ducked. The man then grabbed Sam's arm, swung him around, and shoved him back. Sam kicked, but was blocked, then pushed back into another room. The light moonlight illuminated the room, giving Sam a first glimpse of his attacker. For some reason, Sam felt like he had seen the guy before...He didn't have much time to dwell on that thought, though, due to the fact the intruder elbowed him in the face. Sam aimed a kick at the man's head in retaliation, but the man ducked in the nick of time, barely avoiding Sam's powerful kick, and swung back at Sam, who blocked the swing with his arm. Despite Sam's best efforts though, the fight, however, was finally won by the attacker, who knocked Sam down and pinned him to the floor, one hand at Sam's neck, and the other holding Sam's wrist.

"Easy, tiger," the man teased.

The man, Dean Winchester, was Sam's older brother by four years. He had short dirty-blonde hair that had a tidy, yet messed up look to it, green eyes which were bright with amusement, and a cocky smile. He was wearing jeans, a dark-red button-up shirt, and a large dark brown jacket.

Sam exhaled hard. "Dean?" he asked, more than surprised by the odd situation.

Dean laughed.

"You scared the crap out of me!" Sam said indignantly.

"That's 'cause you're out of practice," Dean said disapprovingly.

Catching his older brother by surprise, Sam grabbed Dean's hand and yanked, hard, slamming his heel into Dean's back and slamming Dean to the floor.

"Or not," Dean corrected himself. "Get off of me,"

Sam rolled to his feet and pulled Dean up. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked breathlessly.

"Well, I was looking for a beer," Dean quipped, before putting his hands on Sam's shoulders, shaking once, and letting go.

"_What the hell_ are you doing here?" Sam asked, voice sounding colder than before.

"Okay. All right. We gotta talk." Dean said seriously, dropping his lighthearted tone.

"Uh, the phone," Sam said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"If Id'a called would you have picked up?"

Jess, who had been awoken by the brawling brothers, turned on the light. She was wearing very short pink shorts and a cropped Smurf's shirt. "Sam?" she asked, confused.

The brothers turned their heads in unison.

"Jess. Hey. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica." Sam said, dropping the harsh tone.

Dean gave her a fleeting look of appreciation for breaking up the soon-to-be-argument.

"Wait, your brother Dean?" she asked, before flashing a smile at the older sibling.

Sam nodded seriously.

Dean grinned at her and moved closer, to get a better look. "Oh, I love the Smurfs," Dean said cheerfully, motioning to Jess's shirt. "You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league."

"Let me just put something on…" Jess said as she turned to go back into the bedroom, but Dean's voice stopped her. "No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it. _Seriously_," Dean said flirtatiously, before going back over to Sam without taking his eyes off Jess. Sam watched him, his expression stony. "I gotta borrow you boyfriend here, talk about some private family business," Dean continued. "But, uh, nice meeting you."

"No," Sam said, before walking back over to Jess, and putting an arm around her. "Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her,"

"Okay," Dean said, turning to look at them both straight on. "Um. Dad hasn't been home in a few days,"

Sam shrugs. "So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later," he said, wearing a cold expression.

Dean ducked his head and looked back up, looking only at Sam this time. "Dad's on a _hunting trip_. And he hasn't been home in a few days," he said, adding emphasis to hunting trip.

Sam's expression didn't change, but something flashed in his eyes. Jessica glanced up at him. "Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside," he said, not taking his eyes off Dean the entire time…

**To Be Continued...**

**Thank you for the reviews last time... just keep reading and reviewing, I'll keep posting...**


	3. Heated Conversations

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural...but I wish I did**

**Chapter 2**

_**Palo Alto, California**_

_**Present Day**_

_**November 1, 2005**_

"I mean, come on," Sam called after his brother, who was moving quickly down the apartment building stairway. "You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you."

Dean inwardly sighed, trying to keep his cool. "You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. I need your help to help me find him," he said calmly.

Sam wasn't in the mood to deal with this. He'd just been dragged to a Halloween party he'd had absolutely no desire to go to. The last thing he needed was for his older brother, whom he hadn't seen in over two years, badgering him about one thing he hated more than anything else; _hunting_. "You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too," Sam argued defiantly. "He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine."

Dean turned to face his brother. "Not for this long. Now, are you gonna come with me or not?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm not," Sam answered simply.

_Knew it_, Dean thought bitterly. "Why not?" he asked, refusing to take no for an answer.

"I swore I was done hunting. For good," Sam replied.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad," he said, before turning to head down the last couple of steps.

"Yeah?" Sam raised his eyebrows."When I told dad I was scared of the thing in the closet, he gave me a .45."

Dean stopped at the door to the parking lot. "Well, what was he supposed to do?" Dean demanded, facing Sam.

"I was nine years old!" Sam scoffed. "He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark."

"Don't be afraid of the dark? Are you kidding me?" Dean asked disbelievingly. "Of course you should be afraid of the dark! You know what's out there!"

"Yeah, I know, but still," Sam argued. "The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her. But we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we _can_ find."

"We save a lot of people doing it too," Dean countered, holding his head up proudly.

There was a short silence. "You think mom would've wanted this for us?" Sam asked.

Dean rolled his eyes, slammed the door open, and the two climbed a short flight of cement stairs to the dark parking lot.

"The weapon training and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors." Sam finished, following his the elder brother to trunk of the black '67 Impala, which had been gifted to Dean from John, on his sixteenth birthday.

Dean turned to face Sam upon "So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?" Dean demanded, temper rising.

"No. Not normal," Sam corrected. "Safe."

"And that's why you ran away," Dean scoffed.

A wave of hurt crossed Sam's expression at his brother's low blow. "I was just going to college," he argued. "It was Dad who said that if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing."

"Yeah, well, dad's in real trouble. If he's not dead already. I can feel it," Dean said, his expression softening.

Sam didn't respond.

"I can't do this alone," Dean said softly, the energy to fight leaving him, and being replaced by the longing to get his little brother back after going a miserable two years without seeing him. Even though Dean would deny it, he missed Sammy. He missed hunting with him, sharing jokes, or (only _very _occasionally) having those chick-flick moments his brother is famous for.

"Yes you can," Sam argued, knowing full well that his brother was a very capable hunter.

Dean looked down. "Yeah, well, I don't want to," he admitted softly.

Sam sighed and looked down at the rims of the Impala, deep in thought, then brought his gaze back up to Dean. "What was he hunting?" he asked, acknowledging near-defeat.

Dean turned to the trunk, pulled it open first, then the lifted the lid of the spare-tire compartment, revealing an arsenal of weapons. Some of the weapons included sawed-off shot-guns, hand-guns, axes, machetes, knifes of all shapes and sizes, ammunition, etc. You name some random weapon, and Dean probably had it in his arsenal; he had to, in order to survive. Hunting wasn't exactly a job where only carrying one weapon would cut it. Sam knew that well; Hell, that'd been why he was so adamant in refusing Dean's request for help. The job was _dangerous_. He'd watched both his brother and father in more life threatening situations than he could count, and at some point, Sam didn't know when, hunting was gonna cost one of them their lives, and he couldn't just sit back and wait for that to happen, so he did what most sane people would've done; he ran.

"Alright, let's see, where the hell did I put that thing" Dean muttered to himself while digging through the jumbled mess of weapons, looking for, who knows what?

"So, when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked curiously, remembering that John would usually prefer having Dean there to assist him during a hunt.

"I was working my own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans," Dean replied, still searching through his trunk.

Sam found this revelation surprising and amusing at the same time. It didn't sound like John to let Dean work a case on his own. "Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" he asked incredulously.

Dean looked over at Sam. "I'm twenty-six, dude," he said, before pulling out some papers from a folder lying among the mess of weapons.

"Alright, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy," he handed one of the papers to Sam to give him a better look. "They found his car, but he vanished, completely MIA."

Sam examined the paper. It was a printout of an article from the _Jericho Herald_, headlined "Centennial Highway Disappearance" and dated September 19th, 2005. He noticed a picture of a young blonde man in, looking to be in his thirties, which was captioned "Andrew Carey MISSING".

"So maybe he was kidnapped," he said, looking back at Dean.

"Yeah. Well, here's another one in April," he explained, tossing down one of the _Jericho Herald_ articles. "Another one in December 'oh-four, oh-three, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two…" he continued, tossing down four other articles, "…ten of them over the past twenty years," he took the article back from Sam and added it to the rest of the stack, which he then put back in the folder.

Sam listened intently, taking in every word his brother was saying.

"All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road," Dean continued, pulling out a black bag from the compartment. "It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough."

Sam nodded as he watched Dean pull out a handheld tape-recorder. "Then I get this voicemail yesterday," Dean said, pressing play.

Sam listened. The recording wasn't easy to understand; it was full of static and the signal clearly seemed to be breaking up. Sam froze as he heard his dad's voice, "Dean…something big is starting to happen…" he noted the fear in John's voice over the recording, something that he didn't hear often, even when he lived with the man."…I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may…Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger…" The recording stopped, leaving a chill in the air as the words of their father echoed in the boys' minds.

"You know there's EVP on that?" Sam noted.

"Not bad, Sammy," Dean complimented. "Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?"

The younger brother rolled his eyes.

"All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got." He pressed play again.

"I can never go home…" a raspy female voice whispered before Dean stopped the recording.

"Never go home," Sam repeated.

Dean dropped the recorder back in the bag, put down the shot gun holding the arsenal's lid open, before closing the trunk and leaning on it. "You know, for almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing," he said simply, before falling silent and looking at Sam expectantly. If Sam didn't say yes now, then he wasn't going to, this was the moment of truth.

Sam looked away for a moment, in deep thought. If he did this, it was likely he'd get roped back into hunting for good. _No_, he thought. He wouldn't allow that to happen, but he knew he had to help his father, even if the two didn't have the best relationship; he knew John would do the same for him. After another moment of consideration, Sam sighed in defeat, finally making up his mind, before returning his gaze to his brother, who'd been staring at him expectantly. "All right, I'll go help you find him," he said.

Dean nodded.

"But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here," Sam said, before turning to go back the apartment.

"What's first thing Monday?" Dean asked, causing Sam to turn and face him.

"I have this…I have an interview,"

"What, a job interview? Skip it,"

"It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate,"

"Law school?" Dean asked, smirking.

Sam ignored him. "So, we got a deal or not?"

Dean said nothing.

_**Sam's Apartment**_

Sam pulled out an, odd curved knife from under his mattress and stuffed it into his duffel bag.

"Wait, you're taking off?" Jessica asked incredulously, causing Sam to look up. "Your dad, is he alright?" she continued, voice full of concern.

"Yeah, just a little family drama," Sam said, before going over to the dresser and turning on the lamp sitting atop it.

Jess wasn't convinced. "You said he was on some sort of hunting trip," she said, sitting down on the bed.

"Oh yeah, he's just deer hunting up at the cabin, he's probably got Jim, Jack, and José along with him. I'm just going to go bring him back," Sam lied smoothly, while stuffing the last of his shirts into his bag.

"What about the interview?"

"I'll make the interview. This is only a couple of days."

"Sam, I mean, please," Jess begged, trying to get her boyfriend's attention. Sam stopped at her tone and turned to face his frantic girlfriend, who had gotten up to follow him. "Just stop for a second. You sure you're okay?"

Sam laughed. "I'm fine."

"It's just…you won't even talk about your family. And now you're taking off in the middle of the night to spend a weekend with them? And with Monday coming up, which is kind of a huge deal…"

Sam cut her off. "Hey, everything's going to be okay. I will be back in time, I promise." Sam kissed her on the cheek and walked out the bedroom door.

"At least tell me where you're going," she called after him, but Sam was already gone.

**Thanks for reading guys, Chapter 3 is up, so check it out**


	4. A Pretty Face

**Disclaimer:**

**So, yeah... I do not, nor will I ever own Supernatural or any of its characters. I mean, I wish I did sometimes, so I could just make it so seasons 6 and 7 didn't happen, but...oh, well. Curse you, Sarah Gamble!**

**C****hapter 3**

_**Jericho, California**_

_**Centennial Highway**_

_**November 1, 2005**_

The night was dark as Troy sped down the highway in his not-so-new _VW Jetta_. The speedometer read 77 mph, which was at least 15 miles over the speed limit. Troy didn't care, though. In fact, he wasn't even paying attention to the road, because he was on the phone with his girlfriend of two months, Amy as one of Troy's favorite songs, _Speaking In Tongues_ by The Eagles of Death Metal played in the background. The pair had been friends since they were kids. That wasn't too uncommon in Jericho, though, a town in which everyone knew everyone. Halfway through their senior year, Troy had finally begun to realize that his feelings for Amy had extended to more than just friendship when they'd gone to a party together. It'd taken Troy a couple of months to ask her out, but when he did, Amy happily said yes. The duo, as a couple, had been quite happy together up until that point. Little did the happy couple know that their relationship would be tragically cut-short later that night.

"Amy, I can't come over tonight," Troy said, smiling widely at the sound of his girlfriend's voice as she responded. "Because I've got to work in the morning, that's why… Yeah, okay, I miss it and my dad's gonna have my ass…" he replied, his smile fading, as he began to feel a prick of annoyance in the back of his mind. He was about to retort, but before he could, something on the side of the road, about a hundred yards in front of him, caught his eye. This white object took Troy's full attention away from his upset girlfriend, her voice becoming little more than background noise him as he stared at the white shape.. As his car neared whatever it was he was staring at, he saw that white shape was a woman in a white dress, and she seemed to be twirling around in some sort of dance. She was older than Troy, probably in her mid-to-late-twenties, and she was hot. Troy looked away from the dancing woman for a brief moment and didn't notice as the woman's form flickered and disappeared for a split second before coming back into view.

"Hey, ah, Amy, let me call you back?" Troy said quickly, cutting Amy off, before absent-mindedly hanging up. His gaze returned to the woman, who had stopped dancing and appeared to be staring right at him. In the back of his mind, he knew something didn't seem right about the situation, but a bigger part of him knew he had to help her.

When he was within fifty feet of the woman's form and began to apply his foot to the break, the song playing on the radio began flicker. Annoyed, he reached down to turn it off, but after a few failed attempts, he gave up. He pulled up next to the woman, and stopped the car. The woman's white dress was tattered and torn in several places, but Troy assumed she'd just come from a Halloween party and thought nothing of it.

He lowered the window and leaned across the shotgun seat. "Car trouble?" he asked.

There was a long pause as the woman studied him. "Take me home?" she finally asked. Her voice was soft and sad, as if she'd just lost someone important to her.

Without a second thought, Troy opened the passenger door. "Sure, get in," he said, not sparing a thought to how Amy would feel about him picking up an attractive stranger on the side of the road. The woman, he noticed as his gaze shifted down, was barefoot. Troy found this odd, but seemed to think better of saying anything, just in case the question would upset her in any way. The woman took the offer right away and swiftly climbed into the passenger seat, and slammed the car door shut. "So, where do you live?" he asked.

"At the end of Breckenridge Road," she replied in a soft voice that made chills run up Troy's spine. The woman was so attractive though, that he ignored the bad feeling he had. She had long, wavy black hair that ran past her shoulders, empty brown eyes, amazing hips and legs, and darkish skin.

Troy nodded in understanding. "You coming from a Halloween party or something?" he asked, trying to make conversation until he noticed how _very_ low cut the woman's dress was. He found himself staring, and looked away, laughing nervously, not wanting to appear as rude or creepy. "You know, a girl like you really shouldn't be alone out here.

The woman looked at him with a mournful, yet seductive look on her face, and slowly, sensually, she pulled her skirt up over her thigh, revealing to Troy, her perfect, tan legs. Troy's breath caught in his throat. He wanted nothing more than to caress those wonderful thighs. "I'm with you," she said. Her words knocked Troy from his stupor. He looked away. What was he doing? He was with Amy, the girl he loved. He couldn't betray her with some slut he found on the side of the road. At that moment, he promised himself that he would be strong and try to remain faithful. However, when the woman took Troy's chin and turned his face towards her, he completely forgot about Amy. "Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked innocently, leaning her chest closer to him.

Troy nodded, his gaze stuck on the woman's large, round breasts. "Uh…huh," he stuttered, eyes lit with desire. The urge Troy had to reach over and squeeze those wonderful breasts was almost overpowering. He wanted to have her, he _needed_ to have her.

"Will you come home with me?" the woman asked sensually.

Troy didn't even have to think about the answer. "Um. Hell yeah!" he replied excitedly, before he put the car into drive and continued down the highway, towards Breckenridge Road. As he sped down the road, his speedometer read 85 mph, but Troy didn't notice, he was too shocked at the situation to be aware of such unimportant details. Troy couldn't believe his luck. He was about to score with one of the hottest chicks he'd ever seen. He was so wrapped up in that thought that he didn't even notice the woman's form flicker in the passenger's seat. He didn't notice the triumphant grin on the woman's face…none of those details, like Amy, or the suspicious behavior of the woman, mattered to Troy in that moment because he was gonna get laid…

_**The Woman's Home**_

Troy's _VW Jetta_ pulled up to an old, abandoned house at the end of the road. The house's windows had been broken in and some boarded up, the screen door in the middle of the front porch had been smashed through, and the roof looked about ready to collapse in on itself; the house had easily been abandoned for over twenty years. The woman stared at the house sadly, as if she was thinking of happier times.

Troy was confused. There was no way she could live there. Hell, it looked like the house had been empty for decades. He allowed himself a nervous chuckle. "Come on. You don't live here," he said, smirking at what he assumed to be the woman's idea of a joke.

"I can never go home," the woman said mournfully, surprising Troy beyond all reason. He imagined she'd laugh at him and say "gotcha", but she never did.

"What're you talking about? Nobody even lives here. Where do you live?" he asked, the joking tone draining from his voice. When she didn't respond, Troy turned to her, but to his surprise, she wasn't there. He turned around and checked the back seat. It was empty as well. He scrambled to unbuckle his seat belt, opened the door, and got out of the car. Uneasiness was settling in. _Where the hell did she go_, he thought. "That's good. Joke's over, okay? You want me to leave?"

Troy looked around the abandoned property: he doesn't see or hear a single sign of life except a couple of chirping crickets in the dead grass to his right. Sighing in frustration, he turned toward the house and walked toward the porch. "Hello?" he called. He could feel his fear threatening to overtake the rational part of his mind as he stopped near the screen door. There was a large hole in the front, like someone had forced through it. Inside, all he could see an old, worn out couch. The rest was shadowed in darkness. When Troy got closer and peered inside, a large black bird seemingly appeared out of nowhere and flew right at his face, instilling an indescribable terror within him. He stumbled back and fell onto the porch before scrambling to his feet, letting out a terrified yell, and bolting to his car. He hurriedly got inside and drove off before even putting on his seatbelt.

_**Centennial Highway**_

The speedometer on the dashboard read 90 mph, but as usual, Troy wasn't focusing on his driving. He looked behind him, briefly, to see if the woman had followed him. When he saw nothing, Troy breathed a sigh of relief. _Never again,_ he thought to himself. Sighing again, he checked his rearview mirror to try to get a sense of what was going on around him, and to his horror, in the backseat, he saw the woman. Troy yelled again and in his distracted state, he drove straight through a 'Bridge Closed' sign. The _VW Jetta_ came to a complete stop in the middle of the bridge. Troy's blood-curdling screams echoed throughout the area, until being silenced as his blood splattered all over the _Jetta's_ windows.

**Hey, guys, thanks for reading. I had a lot of fun writing this one. Please Review. I really like to hear you guys's feedback, so yeah...and I'll try to get working on that other Supernatural story I'm writing. Hopefully I'll have it updated within a few days.**


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